


hotter than the stove top

by angelsaves



Category: Nailed It! (TV)
Genre: F/M, Inappropriate Workplace Behavior, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: Wes calls Nicole’s bluff, sexily.





	hotter than the stove top

**Author's Note:**

> beta and title help by mardia!

Wes is sure that Nicole's teasing is just an act. ...Almost sure, anyway. She's beautiful, curvy and glamorous, and at the same time raunchy and ridiculous. What could she want from him, besides some blushes and patience, and that one time she got him into a Thor costume?

But Nicole isn't the only one with a streak of envelope-pushing in their nature. The next day of filming, Nicole suggests with a gleam that Wes appear from under the table to produce the trophy.

"Sure thing," Wes says, and when the time comes, he crawls into the dark space between her leg and Jacques', setting the trophy down carefully. It's a tight fit, but Wes isn't claustrophobic at all; he used to hang out under the bed as a kid, pretending it was his own private world.

It's a different kind of private world now. Wes folds himself to one side, rests his hand on Nicole's shoe, and just -- breathes. Goosebumps rise on her knee, but she's too practiced an actor to react visibly above the waist, he knows.

She reaches down with one hand, and Wes is prepared to move back out of her space at the slightest nudge -- but that isn't what happens. No, Nicole's fingers tangle in his hair, and she pulls him slowly, slowly closer. He goes willingly -- more than willingly, letting his lips skim over the inside of her thigh.

Nicole spreads her legs, just a little bit, and Wes yearns closer. Christ, he can smell how wet she is, just from this. Are they really going to --

"Wes!" Nicole shouts, and he leaps backward, clonking his head on the underside of the table. "Where could that man _be?"_

He can't show his face on camera, not like this; he grabs the trophy and holds it aloft like the Lady of the Lake with Excalibur.

"Why, Wes, what could you be doing down there?" Nicole exclaims, taking the trophy. The show must go on, and Wes keeps his hands and mouth to himself while the judges announce the winner.

Nicole leaps up for the traditional selfie -- Jacques' technique is improving -- and Wes tries to decide if he should get out while everyone is distracted, or... not do that. He's just about to crawl out into the light when Nicole drops back into her seat.

"They're gone," she says conversationally, "but Jacques _winked_ at me, so you better make this good, okay?" She cups his head with one hand. "Unless you want to cry 'uncle,' that's fine too."

Wes clears his throat. "I don't," he says.

Nicole's grip tightens. "Don't what?"

"Want to cry 'uncle.'" He feels a little light-headed, but when he sets his hands on the insides of her thighs and inhales, the rich scent of her is grounding.

"Well, good!" Nicole says, like she hadn't expected anything else.

Wes grins, leaning forward, and licks her through her underpants, red cotton and soaking wet. She squirms and makes a pleased little sound, and he licks harder.

"Fuck," Nicole says, and reaches between them to pull her panties roughly to one side. "Harder, Wes --"

And who is he to disappoint a lady? He thrusts his tongue inside her, traces up around her clit, paying attention to what gets her to push back against him and make more of those desperate noises. She's bucking hard against his face, and he's pretty sure she's biting her lower lip to keep quiet, and it's so much, so good, that his eyes start to sting.

Nicole comes with a heavy sigh of relief, like he's fixed a dislocated shoulder by getting her off. Now she does shove him away, gracelessly, by the forehead. "Oh, God, that was good," she says, petting his hair.

"Thanks," Wes says, smiling. "I do my best." He wipes his mouth dry with the back of his hand.

"I figured you'd be good," Nicole goes on. "You've got that whole quiet confidence thing going on. Is your dick big?"

"I, uh -- what?" Wes crawls out from under the table to see if she's serious; backlit, she looks like a goddess, but one whose expression is hard to read.

She rolls her eyes. "Is -- your -- dick -- _big,"_ she repeats. "I just want to know what to gear up for, if you know what I mean."

"It's -- uh, I haven't had any complaints?" he hazards. It is pretty big, but some women assume that makes him lazy, and he hates starting from a disadvantage.

"Oooh, it _is_ big," Nicole says delightedly. "That's good, I like that." She gets to her feet, cracks her back, and looks down at him. "Well? Are you coming?"

"I sure hope so," Wes says, and Nicole's laugh explodes like fireworks.


End file.
